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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620726">Newborn, New Start</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBirdy/pseuds/BBirdy'>BBirdy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newborn [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Gen, Healing, Internal Conflict, M/M, Male Lactation, Medical, Medical Trauma, Mentioned Agatha Wellbelove, Mpreg, Penelope Bunce is a Good Friend, Post Mpreg, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Teen Romance, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow), oc child - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:13:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBirdy/pseuds/BBirdy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>EPILOGUE TO "NEW YEAR, NEWBORN"</p><p>Baz placed a kiss underneath his right eye, atop the mole there. <br/>Lifting one head lid Simon turned a deep red. "What was that for?"<br/>"I told you," Baz whispered, lifting his head up on an elbow. "I'm in love with you. It's not like I can hide that anymore."<br/>Still pink around the edges Simon rubbed the back of his neck. "It's nice you know."<br/>"What is?" Baz absently wound their fingers together.<br/>"Knowing you don't hate me, being not only needed but wanted. It's like a family."<br/>"We are a family," Baz pointed out. "We've got our son. And I think I've decided on a name."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newborn [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SconesforSimon/gifts">SconesforSimon</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"It's a scandal!" the snarl of Malcolm Pitch echoed, like the words themselves were whispered by the walls. "I was not told of anything regarding this affair and now you refuse to come home?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz could hardly lift his head, shame as much as pure exhaustion keeping it bowed. "My education is still vital. And I will not take the child from their father."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span><br/>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> their father!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched at the volume. "In this context, you'll find other terms far more suiting." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ready to continue a quiet whimper drew his attention. The shouting hadn't disturbed only him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Failing body cast aside Baz stood, pushing past the imposing figure of his own father to gather the tiny creature in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elder of the men fell silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shh," Baz whispered, brushing a finger down the pale cheeks. "You're okay. It's okay. Mama is here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only three days old and traits had already begun to appear. Their color was still mottled in places, going strawberry pink whenever that toothless mouth opened to cry. But the hair, which had been a flat black when born, was starting to show fragments of a lighter bronze, the curls sticking in odd directions. And there was a trio of moles under his left eye. Baz couldn't help but lift the tiny face to his, kissing the marks, just like he would with any of their father's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frail cries didn't last long, petering out as they were rocked back into an uneasy consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have chosen a title for yourself?" Malcolm asked impetuously, arms snapped to his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The remainder of his audience brought all his physical failings to the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz sunk into the armchair he'd been brought. "It seemed most accurate," he kept a stone face, swallowing his groan of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tucked in the corner of the decently sized medical wing of Watford, Baz now had a full-sized bed to himself, dressed in his own pajamas. The medical wing wasn't uncomfortable, merely sterile. Baz ached to get back to his room, place his son from the plastic white cradle he'd been given to the one set at the foot of his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still cradled his son, using the child as a shield as much as he felt he was shielding them in turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Starring each other in the eyes it was not going to be Baz who backed down first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a low snarl, Malcolm turned his back toward his son. "Have you thought about what you're going to do next? As you chose to say nothing to myself or your aunt, or, it seems, any of the school staff including the nurse, I'll assume you had no idea until three days ago."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz knew he couldn't lie, not to Malcolm. He'd tried, often, but never quite managed to succeed. "I've known for several months," he pressed on before he could be interrupted. "After their birth, I was going to take them to a church or similar place. Their father changed my mind when he was told." Of course, telling the truth didn't have to mean he would share </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, especially how Simon had found out. "He and I came to the agreement that we would keep the child."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm's visible dislike for his son's roommate only grew, though he kept quiet, lips pressed paper-thin, like he was holding back the physical flood that would be his tirade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And we had hoped," Baz didn't keep the ice from his tone. "That your status, and the inheritance I am owed once I come of age, would be able to be used to care for him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flush in Malcolm's face was gratifying, watching it come from shame and less from growing fury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing emotion once more Malcolm kept his composure. "I had hoped that money would be used on a family for you later in your life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not an irresponsible child," Baz matched his tone. "Had I known my impregnation was a possibility I would have taken better precautions? I did not. And this is my reality. I'm taking steps to ensure myself and my child will not be destitute." He spoke thinly. "I am not stupid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm gaped a moment, opening and closing his mouth for several seconds before taking a deep breath. "then there are things to discuss."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If they concern my son then I would like Simon to be present."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teeth grit Malcolm peered around the privacy curtains placed around the bed and gestured at someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They obeyed the silent instruction immediately as, within moments, a nurse brought Simon around into the mock room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly concerned Simon brushed past Malcolm as if he weren't there, crouching beside Baz. "Is everything okay? Are you? How's the baby?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Small smile peaking at the corners of his mouth Baz cleared his throat. "Snow. This is my father, he's come to talk about our… options. Father this is Simon Snow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long, or so it seemed to Baz, stressful moment, Malcolm extended a hand to Simon. "While I would have liked to meet under more favorable circumstances it is good to meet the, the other parent of my first grandchild."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon glanced back toward Baz. The tone directed at him had his heart thundering. Was this man threatening him? Should he shake the hand offered? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking, something tense unwinding from Baz's shoulders Simon found his courage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, er, sir. It's nice to meet you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz swallowed an inappropriate giggle. The pain potions he was on must have been messing with his head. "Sit, father," he collected himself. "What things did you want to discuss."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Backing up Simon took a seat beside Baz, placing a hand over his without thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frantic thudding underneath Baz's ribcage eased. His father didn't hate Simon and had called the baby his grandchild. The foreboding in his father's face seemed to have faded as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat. "I've spoken to the Mage-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon and Baz exchanged the briefest of glances. For the head of an Old Family to even consider breathing in the Mage's direction he must be serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-and to the various nurses."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz gnawed at the inside of his cheek. "What did they say?" He begged silently to any deity that would listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not much."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank Crolwey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Baz breathed silently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The information available wasn't all pleasant. He was just grateful Bunce- Penny, hadn't been part of the interviewed group. He could still hear her explanation to the nurses. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd been lying on the bed nearest the door, fading in and out of consciousness while the abrasive voice cut deep into his psyche. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I came in to see Simon, just get him for breakfast and there was a mess everywhere. The whole room smelled like blood," she gesticulated wildly. "Simon got up and told me that Baz had just given birth!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz had managed to pry open his eyes at that point. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes since his son was born, and judging by the worried whispers around him he wasn't doing well.  Simon's hand still curled around his, though, and that was all the comfort he really needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Simon started saying something about how it was his and there wasn't a danger, giving me the runs though. You'll have to ask him for the details. I don't really know them all. But Baz goes to sit up and next thing I know there's blood gushing, and I mean gushing, down his leg. He was pale already, paler than normal I mean, but he just lost all his color. Simon grabbed the baby and Baz…" she paused, trying to catch her breath. "He just crumpled. He must have blacked out or something. He was only out for a second. When he woke he muttered something I couldn't understand. I don't know what's going on. It all just looked bad so I took the baby, who I think was sleeping, but you might want to check on them too, and had Simon throw a blanket on him to get him down here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More questions were asked, about the afterbirth, about any potential complications, but the only thing Baz could process was the flicker of a chance that his son was harmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Snow? His voice had crackled like an out of tune radio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't talk," Simon pressed a firm kiss against his clammy forehead. "They're just fixing you up. Relax."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is he okay? Our son-" his words broke off. He whimpered, tasting blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon brushed his back damp locks. "You worry about yourself for a second."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More concerned whispers. He only caught a few words. Blood loss. Shock. Internal damage. His heart squeezed tighter, fit to burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Snow?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon let go of his hand and when he found the strength to lift his heavy lids Baz laid yes on the baby. They weren't moving beside long hitching breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's okay. The nurses say he's completely healthy. They've got him weighed and checked over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon nodded. "I promise. You concentrate on yourself. I've got them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's when Baz had blacked out.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"However," back in the present Malcolm was still speaking, sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed and hands clasped atop his knee. "I was told you and the child were cared for and healing from the… experience."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz found himself again, perversely amused by his father's inability to say the word 'birth'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How is the healing process so far?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleasantly surprised by the in-depth care Baz shifted uncomfortably in the old rocking chair. "You were told of my injuries?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His color shifted to a gentle green. "I was."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The healing of hip bones, with proper therapy, will be four months. The nurses are surprised I've been able to take to my feet at all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not supposed to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Simon cut in, brows furrowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz pursed his lips. "I will have a wheelchair for daily life that is not my room, along with healing and painkillers." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon's worry did not flag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am fine," Baz said pointedly, more to Simon than his father. "All other healing will be minimal, taking only a month or so, soft tissue repair."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And the removal of stitches?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should dissolve within a month," Baz returned to a business-like structure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm rolled his shoulders, trying very hard not to think about whatever that could imply. "The support of the nurses so far seems manageable. A rotating staff could be hired-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not necessary," Baz cut across his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short nod. Malcolm kept his professional tirade proceeding. "I will admit a concern was that your condition had passed on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guts clenching Baz brushed a finger over the chubby cheek once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It seems all tests done conclude your son is fully human," Malcolm couldn't help the fraction of relief from his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz knew that relief. The moment he'd been told he'd nearly blacked out, tension draining away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing his hand closer Simon reflexively went to comfort him. "So far as they can tell," he repeated his stance. Simon had remained staunchly protective. "And no matter how our son is, he will be and is perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile crept back to Baz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm flushed. "I only mean he appears to eat normally for a newborn and has no vampiric tendencies."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue the baby began to squirm in Baz's hold. "Speaking of eating habits," Baz whispered, suddenly uncomfortable. "Father, would you excuse me a moment?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm stood as if lifted by a string and walked beyond the fabric curtain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want me to go?" Simon asked, taking the baby as Baz undid the buttons on his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. "I don't mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the odd things Baz had been subjected to the last several months, he found this one of the most peculiar. Fussing and wriggling the newborn began to sniffle. Baz used the moment to lift the tiny mouth to his chest, where he latched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You okay?" Simon asked, alarmed by his wince. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Baz promised, settling himself again. "Just not used to it all still." He hadn't expected this part, not suspecting until he'd been brought to the nurses. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sore throughout every inch of his body Baz had his head propped up on his pillow, holding his son closely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, in the chair he hadn't left for hours Simon recapped everything he'd been told. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The nurse said the bleeding wasn't caused by anything too serious. How she described it makes me feel like she was lying to me but sure, not serious." He made quotations around the last words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than a little loopy from a mixture of lingering exhaustion, pain potions, and contented joy Baz chuckled. "Snow. What did she say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calmed himself. "It sounds like your temporary birth canal as you described it, wasn't anything sophisticated. The womb made as the baby situated itself just grew and when it needed it began to, to split you open from the inside."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And here I was thinking my comparison made to feeling like scrambled eggs was in poor taste," Baz hummed, rubbing at his collar bone. Something in his ribcage had started to ache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This isn't a joke," Simon darted forward, clinging to his hand. "Baz. You really scared me. I thought you were going to, going to…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sobering, Baz lifted his knuckles to his lips. "I am not going to die, Snow. If you can't talk about it, I'll wait until the nurse returns and have her tell me. I don't mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Simon bristled. "I can do it. It's just hard to think about. She said the reason your labor was so long must have been the developing canal. Once the bleeding started it could have been the transition into active labor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Could have been?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's taking her best guesses here," Simon defended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz pushed himself forward. "Fine, I get that. What about everything else."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Still mostly guesses."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did she have a guess as to how long I will be here?" Baz tried to ease himself back into his pillows, hissing low in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon shifted his chair closer. "Your hips broke Baz, you just had major surgery and a baby, maybe take your time?" He asked, mildly hysterical.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All things I am perfectly aware of," Baz held very still, waiting for the radiating pain to cease throbbing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his chest the tiny figure moved, whining, sensing his discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both boys snapped to attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently rocking him, giving in to whatever instinct had nestled there, Baz hushed him softly, ignoring the pain movement brought back. "Simon. What about him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said he was okay. But, is he, I mean he's not like me is he?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gnawing at his lip Simon cleared his throat. "Look I promised I wouldn't lie-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Baz breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Calm down," Simon winced. "Don't listen to me. I said that wrong. From all the nurses could see he is fine, perfectly human, actually bigger than she'd thought possible for someone caring for their pregnancy alone but, but she can't get him to eat. I didn't know if you'd be mad so I didn't say anything about the whole vampire thing," Simon twisted his fingers. "Is there a chance…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I," Bax brought the baby back down. Not even three hours old, still not eating. Terror clawed inside. "I don't know. I don't want to give him blood until we're sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squirming in his grip, the tiny mouth opened, and began gumming at his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Baz?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a hopeful response?" Baz proffered. "I can't exactly…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sure?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot Snow a scathing look. "I think I'd know if I was lactating, Snow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon wasn't looking at him. "You sure?" he repeated, words little more than a squeak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following the gaze downward he watched the damp growing in coin-sized circles, body physically responding to both his worry and the cries of the baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alastair Crowley," Baz breathed. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think everyone is getting used to it," Simon eyed the silhouette of Malcolm. Jabbing a thumb at him he lifted an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz shrugged helplessly. Spending several years as roommates neither had realized they were capable of non-verbal communication. Just by looking at each other, they could tell what they were thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gesturing toward the thin baby blanket Baz called to his father. "You can come back if you want, father."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I will stay out here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The discomfort had Baz grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon glanced between the shape and Baz, confused all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then you might as well start talking," Baz settled into his chair, brushing aside the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat Malcolm kept standing, starting a slow pace back and forth. "Otherwise the child is entirely healthy," he picked up where he left off. "Everything in order. Still, I would like you to return home, at least until the child is capable of sleeping through the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Father, that could be up to a year," Baz kept his tone even, exchanging panicked glances with Simon. "And I've told you I will not be separating the baby from their father. And furthermore," he calmed himself further. "I will not be putting my education on hold for the child. You may call me naive. But I have everything if not yet functioning, then in the works."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tyrannus," Malcolm stiffened. "Do not take that tone with me. You are being naive in this situation. Your child will need round the clock attention for the next several months. Your body needs time to recuperate. You will need aid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not only the child's other parent!" Malcolm began to pace faster. "I understand your education is important for your future but you cannot leave the child alone like a pet while you go to school! An infant is demanding and draining. And none of this is to mention what you plan on doing after. With or without an education your life will be incredibly difficult. You cannot survive on your trust fund for more than a few years, and with a newborn, it will be far less!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz's face was stone-like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nervous, Simon kept very still. For a nursing mother with bruises from knees to sternum Baz still struck a terrifying aura. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The Mage has arranged a bi-weekly nurse with child care specialties to educate myself and Snow on child-rearing, as well as keeping an eye on them for a few hours to sit any exams or in-person classes I must take. As for daily classes I will not be attending until after the winter holidays. I will spend that time learning to care for my child in an environment where I feel comfortable. This time will also be spent healing with an on-site nursing staff to make sure I am healing properly. The Mage has also arranged for other students to share notes with me and once a week I will have a short meeting with each of my teachers to ensure I have understood all material," Baz had kept entirely calm during this speech. "I may be naive to a point. But I understand the basics of the situation I am placing myself in."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yawning hugely the baby released, lids heavy over those stormy blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Simon and Baz smiled lovingly at the infant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcom took a long deep breath. "I see," he said finally, rounding the edge of the curtain to find the domestic scene laid before him. "You are your mother's son. She wouldn't be dissuaded from anything she'd set her mind to either."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peace settled over Baz slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The holidays are still a few months away," Malcom stiffened all over again. "This is your trial period. I want to hear everything from this semester when you come home. We will discuss your future plans then. Until then I will personally double your trust fund."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz looked up in shock, Simon's own jaw dropping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Call it a very belated baby shower gift," Malcom's smile twitched much Baz's did when he was hiding amusement. "And a gift for my grandson."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, father."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, sir," Simon echoed him, a little out of breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Living arrangements are up to you whether the pair of you decide to live in my home after graduation, or to take one of the vacation homes. Though that too is discussion for the holidays. Until then, your sisters will want to come by within the next few weeks as will your aunt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz couldn't help but look with pride on his son. He was sure his sisters would adore the child. And Fiona? No question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does he have a name?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That he does."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcom was surprised. "Oh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hadn't been difficult for him to decide on the name, not really. Lying in bed, caring for an infant every three hours, Baz was given many sleepless hours, mind wandering away form himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The decision had been solidified forty-eight hours after the birth of his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon entered, coming back with two heaping plates of breakfast. His smile was warm even as dark circles dug underneath his eyes. "The conquering hero brings back his hunt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you hunt?" Baz asked tentatively. Unable to get out of bed left him entirely dependent. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I did," Simon placed a bag at the base of the bed. "I managed to snag a rabbit. That trap spell worked like a charm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have not improved in making puns," Baz smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon paused, confused. Shaking it off as his tired mind simply being too slow he set down the plates. "Would you like that first or breakfast?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Breakfast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kicking up the bed table Simon set his plate down, leaning over the crib. "How is he?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sleeping," Baz already had the fork halfway to his mouth. "And if you wake him up I will make you feed him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon backed up quickly, hands held up in surrender. Gingerly taking his seat beside Baz, he watched him a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mouth stuffed with eggs and hashbrowns Baz swallowed forcefully, meeting the stare with raised eyebrows. "What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are you feeling?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a question he'd gotten nearly every waking hour. Baz instinctively reached for Simon's hand. After hours of doing so upon every encroaching contraction, the motion was muscle memory now. "Tired, sore, nothing new."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you're okay?" There was a tug at Simon's throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting aside his half finished breakfast Baz placed a palm at Simon's cheek. "Snow, what's wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-" Simon hated himself for the tears already gathering. It hadn't impacted him that badly, at least he hadn't thought so. He was just tired. Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Simon," Baz's soft concern was enough to break through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears spilling Simon leaned into the touch. "Agatha broke up with me. Just now. She gave me this whole speech about cheating on her and not having any more passion between us and I… I thought I took it pretty well. While it was happening I felt okay. It hurt, sure, but really I've been expecting it. I refused to even take off my shirt for her and I'm drunkenly impregnating roommates behind her back. I get it," he was rambling now. He couldn't seem to stop, trying to dig through the spilling words for the core of his own tangled feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz for his part simply listened, pulling himself to the edge of the bed and cradling Simon's cheek in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like I said, knew it would happen. But she said something I didn't know… I don't know what to think about. She never raised her voice, not once. She said she would be able to excuse mistakes or drunken escapades. Agatha, she came here last night. She's heard rumors of me coming down to the nurse and freaked out. Without even knowing the context she peeked into the room and she said the way I just sat beside you, the way I looked at you, was a way I'd never looked at her, and never would. She, she said I loved you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intestines squirming Baz opened his mouth, only to find how incredibly dry it had become. "What did you tell her?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I couldn't say anything. She kissed my cheek and walked away and said 'I hope you're happy'. It wasn't condescending or rude though, you know the way girls do sometimes. It was really genuine. And I felt… free." Simon took a deep shuddering breath, digging the base of his palms into his eyes. "So why do I feel like this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I don't know. How is it you're feeling now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lost?" Simon guessed helplessly. "So much has changed the last few days and I guess it feels like, even if I have a purpose, I'm still a little aimless."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scooting carefully Baz patted the edge of the bed next to him. "Maybe because you're exhausted trying to run around and take care of everything except you," Baz offered gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have not,"  Simon mumbled, climbing under the sheets beside him, resting his head on Baz's shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes you have," Baz settled with a low hum, swallowing his pain. "You've been up and down those stairs getting the crib set up in our room, helping clean up the mess, bringing me food, hunting for me. When was the last time you properly slept?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When was the last time </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>slept?" Simon stuck his tongue out childishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz sighed loudly. "That's different."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because I have only one thing to concentrate on. You've been doing everything else for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome," Smion smiled sleepily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz gave in, brushing bronze curls from his cheeks. "You need a nap, Snow. I'm okay. Your son is okay. Rest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to," Simon had come to the grumpy edge of sleepy, giving Baz odd flashes forward to a toddler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea warmed something underneath Baz's chest. "What if I asked nicely?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon stuck out his bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was adorable. Baz placed a kiss underneath his right eye, atop the mole there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting one head lid Simon turned a deep red. "What was that for?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told you," Baz whispered, lifting his head up on elbow. "I'm in love with you. It's not like I can hide that anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still pink around the edges Simon rubbed the back of his neck. "It's nice you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is?" Baz absently wound thier fingers together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Knowing you don't hate me, being not only needed but wanted. It's like a family."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a family," Baz pointed out. "We've got our son."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if responding to his mention fainting whimpering cries disturbed the peaceful scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon pushed himself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bring him to me," Baz tried to push himself upward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've got him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled quiet Baz watched Simon, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated, lifting the swaddled baby and rocking him in the way he'd seen before, the way both Baz and nurses had taken to doing. The warmth in Baz tripled. "you're good with him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon lifted in an exhausted pride, still swaying. "You think so?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're going to be a wonderful father."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon looked down toward the child as thier tiny cries turned to hiccups. He kissed the little head. "Thank you. I, I really hope so. I don't really have anything to compare it to. So I'll have to do a lot of learning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth met an icy brick wall in Baz's guts. Of course. Snow was an orphan. He'd known that. But to hear of it, to think about it… snow had been alone for so long. No wonder Agatha's breaking up had torn him apart. In love or no, he'd lost one of the only connections he had to his little family. Even if he couldn't replace it Baz could give him something almost as good as. Even if Simon never loved him the way he did. Simon deserved to have a life connected to his baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've decided on a name."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Valerian Sage Snow," Baz said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Snow?" Malcolm gaped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon flushed pink, not meeting the man's eyes. "He insists."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz brushed away the bronze flecked curls on the child's head. "As much as the legacy of my family is to be respected I will not deprive my boyfriend of the chance for his own family legacy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I see," Malcom composed himself. "If that is all I will take my leave."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Didn't you want to actually see your grandson?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hesitating a solid moment he shook his head, re-afixing the buttons on his jacket. "Perhaps later. I will be checking in frequently. Do remember to try and write." He vanished around the edge of the temporary curtains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Struggling to hide his disappointment Baz dropped his gaze to his sleeping infant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He'll come around," Simon promised, squeezing his shoulder lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz offered a weak smile, unable to find the proper words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So…" Simon sat down, biting his lip. Underneath his moles he'd turned a soft pink. "Boyfriend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Baz slapped a hand across his mouth. "I did say that. Didn't I? I'm sorry. It slipped out. I supposed I was trying to make a point?" he was babbling, he knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon put a hand over his. "I don't mind. I kinda like it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scooting slowly forward, knees touching now Simon had turned an even dark shade of pink. "I mean, we're a family now… and I'm not just saying this because of Valerian. I care about you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want you to be sure," Baz whispered. "I wouldn't want to make you feel obligated to do anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I kissed you before," Simon's forehead pressed against his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Voice ever quieter Simon hummed. "Can I do it again?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whenever you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smion leaned forward, kissing Baz gently. "As long as i have you, I have all the family I need," he whispered into Baz's ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you Simon Snow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet squeak  came in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We both do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you too."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I.... how didn't I post this literally months ago. I am shame :(</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big big big thanks to SconesforSimon, who has utterly distracted me from all other writing projects to give all my time to this Epilogue!!!</p><p>Any and all comments will be replies to with joy and excitement. Thank you just for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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